


Death is But a Loop Back to You

by heavymetalqueen26



Series: Baggins AU's [4]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Fanart, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Possessive Behavior, original characters are almost all dwarrows and aren't really focused on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavymetalqueen26/pseuds/heavymetalqueen26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of the Five armies Bilbo had returned to the Shire to mourn the loss of his husband. He was living it peacefully with his nephew till the signs that another Fell winter was upon the Shire. He had sent word to his friends in Erebor for help, he got more then he ever bargained for.</p><p>Thorin had been reborn, even though he was but a child, he still longed for his husband. Fili had refused to let him kidnap Bilbo from the Shire, he had been forced to wait 24 years to see his hobbit again. Nothing would stand in his way, not even Bilbo himself. After all what kind of husband would he be if he let anything happen to Bilbo.</p><p>Bilbo just wants to know why a child is giving him gifts that only married couples give each other and why a certain hobbit keeps staring at him. Frodo is doing little to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting my husband, who I didn't know was my husband

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Change of Bilbo's age, he was only 35 when Gandalf showed up. It just seemed creepier to have Bilbo being like 75 with kid!Thorin stalking him.

Fell Winter, it had been the harshest in the Shire, the one with the most blood shed. The river had frozen solid, allowing all manner of beast into the Shire. It had been the reason for the nightmares that plagued Bilbo Baggins and many hobbits of the Shire.

 

The signs were upon the Shire, again the signs that showed during the early fall were back. The same signs that were over looked last time, the ones that lead to blood shed. This time though, they were not over looked. This time, the Shire went to the oldest Baggins of Bag End. The only hobbit who knew of ones who could help the hobbits in their dire times to fallow. Bree, they knew would be no help, just like last time.

 

Which was why Bilbo Baggins, a once respectable hobbit, and his nephew were waiting at the only bridge into the Shire mid-Fall. Bilbo sat on a log with hist trusty pipe in hand, his face hadn't changed much since his adventure 25 years ago. His personality did though, he no longer complained about things like dirty clothes or missing a meal. He was more out spoken, more of a Took now then a Baggins, but still respectable.

 

Frodo, Bilbo's nephew, didn't stray too far away form his uncle, he was practicing with his play sword. It was frowned upon by most hobbits in the Shire, but all knew that he was well taken care of by his uncle. He had spent the past 23 years of his life, like most young hobbits, hearing about the great adventures of Thorin's company. He had always wanted to be his uncle's protector, like the dwarven heroes he had always heard about. Bilbo chuckled as he watched his nephew swing the small practice sword and glare at any hobbit who came near.

 

The same heroes in Erebor that Bilbo had called upon for help. Yes, he could have just as easily called for the help of his elven friends, but he had missed his family. The same family he had faced down trolls, orcs, wargs, and a dragon with. He had long grown tired of the company of hobbits, he missed the liveliness of dwarrows. He even missed the trouble that they brought.

 

He had called upon his family for help, and the help they had sent was to arrive today, Bilbo mussed as he watched his nephew. The same nephew who had once wanted to be a fierce warrior like Dwalin, or a skilled miner like Bofur. His nephew had be ecstatic when the news had arrived that a company would come to the Shire's aid.

 

He didn't know who would be in the company, but he had heard something about Fili's adoptive child being in the group. Along with word that Bifur had tired to ride to the Shire the day his letter had arrived. He gave a small shake of his head at that, only dwarrows would be so protective over what was theirs that they would ride off unprepared.

 

Bilbo had still received letters from the remaining company, all of whom demanded that he come to Erebor to live with them. He knew he couldn't, no, not when his husband wasn't there. No, not when Thorin wasn't there to show him ever crevice, it didn't seem right to look at maps of the mountain without Thorin there some days. After Thorin's death at the battle of the Five armies it had been two long years till he smiled again. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn't return to the place where Thorin drew his last breath, to the place where Thorin's body remained.

 

It wasn't until Frodo had come to live with him that he smiled, together the two had learned to smile again. Ever since the death of his nephew's parents the lad had become overly protective of him, to the point it had nearly brought him to tears because it reminded him so much of his family. Some days he wasn't allowed to go to the market without Frodo by his side, the lad swearing that something would try to attack him on the way.

 

“Come sit with me, my boy, there is no point on continuing on with that now, not when we have a large company of dwarrows coming to protect us.” Bilbo spoke calmly with a bit of amusement, he may have been 50 years old now, but he was more then mature enough to take care of a teen hobbit. He had after all, taken care of two tween dwarrows.

 

Frodo huffed before sitting down next to Bilbo dramatically, “I don't see why they aren't here yet. I thought you said dwarrows were headstrong and always did what they wanted.”

 

He laughed at his nephew's tone, the lad was so impatient. “They'll be here lad. Even if dwarrows don't do too well when it comes to directions above ground.”

 

Frodo gave a small laugh behind his hand, stories of just how badly the line of Durin was with directions were well told. It had turned into quite the saying, “He has the sense of direction of a dwarf” or “He was more lost then a dwarf”. Dwalin and Balin didn't take kindly to the joke, arguing that hobbits would have a hard time navigating underground. Ori had sent him a knitted pink hat in retaliation, he wore it just to make the scribe happy.

 

“Can you tell me a story about them while we wait then?”

 

Bilbo knew he couldn't deny his nephew anything, the lad was his very reason for not fading away. “Sure I can, my boy.” He took a slow drag of his pipe, searching threw his memories for a short story to tell Frodo. “Humm, let's see... Ah, Fili and Kili, my nephews-in-law, had grown bored of waiting around when we were resting at Beorn's home. The great shape-shifter had been very gracious to us, allowing thirteen dwarrows, a wizard, and a hobbit to stay in his lovely home. It was huge as Beorn was, filled with life and good food. Most of us were so tired that eating was almost too much work. But Fili and Kili, like most dwarrows their age so full of energy, had grown restless with all the waiting around until the company had restocked our supplies.”

 

Frodo chuckled, Bilbo had never skipped a chance to tell embarrassing stories about the two. Bilbo let out a small chuckle of his own before continuing on. “The two had never questioned where Beorn had kept his food, that was until the two had grown dreadfully bored. After all, the two had been baned from braiding the companies hair, specially after they had put Nori's braids in the style of a woman's. The company had woken up thinking that Gandalf had cursed the second of the Ri brothers to be a woman for the rest of his life, that was the only time in my life that I ever saw Nori cry.”

 

“Fili and Kili had waited until the whole house was asleep, animals and company included, to search the shape-shifter's home. They had nearly turned the place upside down, until they had realized that Beorn had kept his food in the pantry like normal folk. The two had planed on playing a nasty trick on our host, but in their merriment they forgot that our host was close friends with not one, but two powerful wizards. As soon as the two opened the doors to the pantry a swarm of wasp appeared and the two ran way in a fright, only to end up-”

 

“In the bee hives, where we found them latter, covered in honey and stings. They then latched on to our poor hobbit and cried about the unfairness of the world and refused to eat honey for a whole week.”

 

Bilbo gasped at the deep familiar voice. He didn't notice Frodo stiffen up in interest, he only noticed the familiar few in front of them. Four very familiar dwarrows stood in front of him, behind them stood 17 more. All dressed in traditional dwarven traveling clothes, with heavy packs on their backs. The group was made of obviously large warriors and their families, but he didn't see that, he only saw what was in front of him. In front of Bilbo's very eyes stood Dwalin, Nori, Bifur, and Bofur, four of his family members were here, four of his family was home.

 

He let out a strangled sob before flinging himself to his feet. Tears blurred his vision when he clasped the closest of the four in a greeting of kin. His arms flew out to grasp Dwalin's biceps, his covered by the large dwarf's own hands, before his head was butted lightly. He gave the barely dwarf a watery smile, it was good to be with his family again.

 

“It's good to see our little hobbit again. You've gotten wider and shorter since we last met.” Dwalin said with a small smile of amusement, his eyes shimmering. The large warrior wrapped Bilbo in a powerful hug, the last hug had seemed too long ago for them both.

 

He gave a laugh as he was swept up by Bifur, the speech impaired dwarf wrapping him in a metallic grip. Bilbo let out a hearty chuckle when the dwarf growled at Nori when the thief came too close. It was no secret that Bifur had adopted him as the dwarf's own brother, needless to say he was very protected. Bilbo just chuckled and gave Bifur a small squeeze back.

 

It took Bofur a few minutes to calm down his cousin, the whole family of miners were thrilled to have back their smallest member. Bombur had been unable to leave his wife and children behind, but unmarried Bifur and Bofur were more then ready to leave the day that Bilbo's letter arrived. The whole family had been worried to the point of being ill, they knew what happened last time a harsh winter like the one to come hit the Shire. Bifur had to be locked up or else he would have been on a fool hardy quest to save their smallest family member.

 

Bilbo laughed, promising the dwarf a good family cuddle later. He turned to clasp a hatted dwarf in a greeting of kin as well, only to be met with a fierce hug. He nearly had to shove Bofur away when Frodo stated to make worried comments about Bilbo's back.

 

“It's good to see you again, our dear burglar.” Bofur spoke affectionately, his forehead laying on Bilbo's. The two shared a moment of understanding, they had each felt the loss of their missing family member.

 

“I missed you as well, dear Bofur, still got that hat I see.” Bilbo added with a wink, knowing fully well that Bofur wouldn't get rid of the old thing for the world. He turned to Nori last, “ And I see you still sport the most impressive eyebrow braids in Middle Earth.”

 

Nori puffed out slightly, his eyebrow braids had always been the pinnacle of his pride. It was so different from the rest of his family, it made him feel unique. “Indeed I do little burglar, indeed I do.”

 

Bilbo shook his head at Nori's confident grin, somethings will never change. He let a small laugh escape his mouth before he greeted the thief the same as he did the rest of his family. He gave the middle Ri brother a playful tug on his beard, sending the two into a fit of laughter.

 

It had been a privet joke between the Ri family, the only time Nori ever mothered someone was when his beard was pulled a cretin way. Bilbo had been included slowly into the group because of Ori. Nori had nearly got into a fight with a group of elves because they thought that Ori and Bilbo didn't belong in the library. Bilbo had tried to stop the up incoming fight, but lost his footing when he was pushed over accidentally when an elf moved past him. After flailing around he had found his footing, but only after he had grabbed onto Nori's beard, again an accident.

 

Nori had acted on instinct, Ori grabed the middle brother's beard when the youngest was seeking comfort, he quickly swept up the hobbit and whispered words of comfort in Khuzdul while nuzzling Bilbo's curls. Latter he was embarrassed beyond belief until Bilbo explained that the hobbit had done the same to his mother, but he pulled his mother's curly ponytail. It had been a joke ever since that if one wanted to get onto Nori's good side, all one would have to do was just grab his beard.

 

Bilbo swept back to introduce nephew to the rest of the family, “This strapping young hobbit is my heir-son, Frodo.”

 

He was startled to hear a gasp and an outraged cry from the middle of the group. Bilbo blinked as a young dwarf pushed his way past the rest of the group who had been watching the reunion fondly. He was short for his age, Bilbo noted, his eyes hard with anger and his hair dark as a raven's feathers.

 

Bilbo watched with surprise as the youth pushed past the bulk of Dwalin with a snarl of Khuzdul. Frodo had moved closer to him, the taller lad's presence meant to be protective, but sent the dwarfish youth into a fit. He really didn't know how to react to the youth, it seemed strange. Beyond strange really.

 

The older hobbit felt the air leave his lungs when the youth's arms draped over his middle in a strong iron grip. He could only lift his arms in surprise, this was something he had never experienced with dwarrows. He looked down as the youth sent a frightful glare and snarl at Frodo, it was accompanied by one of the few words in Khuzdul that he understood.

 

_MINE_

 

It was said with such harshness and possessiveness, it would have scared off a dragon. The way how the young dwarf had said it sent a chill of fear down Bilbo's spine. This was just hero worship, yes just hero worship, he thought nervously. Every dwarf had known that Bilbo was Thorin's consort, yes that had to be it.

 

Bifur swiftly pushed back the youth, the child nearly toppling over with the force of it. The speech impaired dwarf let out a vicious sting of Khuzdul and hand gestures. Bifur had been very protective of Bilbo, he had sworn death on their king if anything happened to their hobbit. Seeing someone upset Bilbo had set off one of his violent fits. No one, absolutely no one, would hurt his family ever again.

 

Bifur cared little for who he hurt in his fits that the ax in his head caused, as long as it wasn't his family, it didn't matter. He had lost everything at one point in time, his one, his parents, his siblings, even his closest friends and shield-brothers. He wasn't going to let anything happen to his family. No, nothing was going to take his cousins away. No, nothing was going to take his adoptive little brother way. He had shed too many tears, buried too many bodies of his kin. No, a voice hissed in the back of his mind, NO! Nothing he snarled at the youth could possibly explain his feelings, nothing but death could explain his feelings. No, the voice snarled again, nothing will hurt family, NOTHING.

 

Bilbo and Bofur acted quickly, the two winding their arms around Bifur's middle trapping the dwarf's arms. Both whispered words of affection and nuzzled the warrior's head. Bilbo spoke of how it was alright, his family was here, everything was fine. Bofur repeating phrases over and over again in Khuzdul. The two knew that Bifur had his reasons, they knew that he meant well. They also knew that the dwarf went too far sometimes. Bifur had little empathy for those who weren't family.

 

It had taken the two a long time to calm down the distressed dwarf. Bilbo thought that it was only because the dwarven youth was too far way for Bifur to hit. None the less, he was pleased to see Bifur doing better, it was good not to have an armful of snarling muscle.

 

Dwalin had pulled the young dwarf back and began to lecture the boy, Nori joined not to long after. Both he and Nori scolding the boy loud and harshly in Khuzdul. The boy flinched back slightly, but still kept his face stubbornly stern. It was apparent that the dwarven youth wasn't going to regret his actions. Bilbo knew that this needed to be taken care of and fast.

 

Moving quickly, he set himself slightly behind the young dwarf. With a small smile he clasped the lad on the back. He kept his voice stern, but kind. “I'm sure that the lad meant no harm, right?”

 

The young dwarf stiffened slightly before turning around and burying his face into Bilbo tunic. He wound his arms around the hobbit's middle, his lungs filling with the unique scent of Bilbo Baggins. His arms shook, but the grip was still strong, his knuckles white with their grip on the fabric. It felt so right for him to bury his face into the scent, and to have his arms to rest on the hips of the hobbit. So very right, this was his home, this was his. Slowly, after some consideration he nodded.

 

Bilbo gave a small chuckle, “See, no harm done,” he gave the youth a small pat on the back, “Now why don't we head over to Bag End and get you lot something to eat, hmm?”

 

The group let out a small shout of approval. The trip had been a long one, and harsh. Luckily it wasn't as dangerous this time around, but it was still long. Many of the families had traveled for this long since the fall of Erebor. They definitely appreciated the hospitality of hobbits.

 

Frodo stayed close to Dwalin the whole trip. He was finally really talking to one of his heroes, one of the dwarrows that he had looked up to as a child. He wasn't disappointed. Dwalin had answered every question with out fail, the dwarf had even promised to teach him how to use a ax. His uncle was going to have a fit, he thought with a snicker.

 

Bilbo just shook his head at his nephew in pure amusement. It was cute to see the lad so happy, some of the adults around the Shire had been trying to change Frodo into a “respectable hobbit”. It was good to see the lad have more support, he, as Frodo's uncle/cousin, could only offer so much support to a teen. He would be a lot more happy if he wasn't currently sandwiched between two unruly dwarrows.

 

Bifur stayed to the right of Bilbo, he would snarl every time the dwarf on Bilbo's left came to close for his liking. He didn't care what his family said, this wasn't finished. He would end it, oh yes. He would end the little dwarf if the brat came too close. Nothing would harm what was his, nothing.

 

The young dwarf, who was introduced as Thorin to Bilbo, stayed to Bilbo's left. He kept his nose high and his glare strong. He didn't care what the others said, he wouldn't wait. Not when what was his was so very close. Fili could say all the wannabe king wanted, he would act as he pleased. He wasn't going to lose the hobbit again.

 

“Really, this is too much.” Bilbo muttered, he was starting to lose his patients this was making no sense. None at all, he thought with a glare, Bofur's laughing was not helping.

 

He looked at the small dwarf- Thorin, he corrected. Thorin, was the name of the lad that acted so much like his husband. He wasn't ready yet, he wouldn't be ready till he died to move on from the lose of his husband. He had given up his right as consort, there had been no reason to stay, not with Thorin gone. The young dwarf beside him, who's very name almost made him fall to the ground in tears, brought up too many memories. He wasn't ready.

 

He gave a small hiccup when Thorin, not his husband, gave his hand a small squeeze. It was too much, and here he thought he was done mourning. He offered the lad a watered down smile, it was nice to see the lad try. Bifur also noticed, the dwarf gave a snarl before setting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

Still the trip to Bag End was peaceful, many hobbits came to greet their protectors. Some stayed back, many fearful of the warriors, but others greeted the group wholeheartedly. After many distractions the group made it to the lovely door of Bag End, still the same old green with a lovely mark that showed a bright sickly blue.

 

Dwalin let out a hardy laugh, “Well I'll be, didn't think we could make it here without some familiar markings?”

 

“I was just taking precautions.” Bilbo playfully scolded back. He had really kept the mark for sentimental reasons. It had been by the will of a wizard and a mark on his door that he had been blessed with a strange, but wondrous family. He had tried to paint over the mark, but it didn't look right. With out the mark it looked so dreadfully wrong. He had broken into tears, and scratched at the door till his hands bleed and the mark was back.

 

With a warning about the dwarrows taking of their shoes, the whole group crowded into the kitchen. This time the desolation of the pantry had been well planed, he was to receive more food the next morning.

 

After the warriors and their families had been feed, the young ones were sent off to bed and the adults ready to talk about the months to come. Bilbo had arranged it so that most of the children, only 3 in total, would stay with him in Bag End. The warriors would take turns guarding the Shire's boarders and they would stay with various families. Of course the group would stay with him for the first month, til the Shire's population was comfortable with the dwarven warriors.

 

Bifur had claimed the right to stay with Bilbo at LEST once a week, he was pleased when his younger brother gave in and he got to stay at Bag End three times a week. Bofur got to stay twice a week, one day with him, but he was willing to share with his cousin. Dwalin got only once a week, the warrior had been rather upset about that arrangement, but he didn't care. He trusted Dwalin, but not that much. No, he didn't trust anyone with the safety of his family.

 

Bilbo just giggled into his hand, it may have been many years since he had seen them last, but they still acted the same. Some dwarrows were such squabblers. He was then introduced to the rest of the group, ten warriors, most were married. Like most dwarrows the ones who were family had rhyming names.

 

There was Onil, Bonil, and Wonil, all of who’s spouses were warriors. Brin was married to Onil, both sported dark brown hair and quite the impressively braided beard. Both were very much interested in hunting, the two had met while on a hunting expedition in the Blue mountains. Brin was an only child and was scraping for ends meat to help his parents. He had frowned upon Onil at first because of Onil's family fortune. Brin had treated Onil like the scum on his shoe, but soon grew to love the sweet, generous personality that the slightly taller dwarf had. Brin had then taken it as his job to watch over Onil, he went as far as to pull the youngest brother close to his side and snarl at moving bushes. Onil had to nearly push the shorter dwarf off a cliff to prove that he didn't need to be coddled, it had been a sparing match, things had gotten out of hand. It hasn't stopped Brin from being protective over his husband, he was just more tactful with it now.

 

Daner was married to Bonil. Daner, who was one of the only two women of the group, was incredibly strong, much like Dori. She was taller then most dwarrows, with light silver hair and the prettiest bronze beads in her expertly woven beard. Her husband, Bonil, was a strong dwarf as well, with dark brown hair and a braided doughnut beard, like Bombur's. The two had met when joining a bet of who was the strongest. It ended in quite the tumble, the two had made it into a sort of flirting thing, almost as if they were trying to prove that they were good enough for the other. Bonil was the middle brother, he hadn't really felt like he deserved the attention that Daner had gave him, but the woman had been unwilling to give up the stout warrior. Nope, she had nearly beheaded Bonil's captain in jealousy, Bonil had never been more afraid for his kin's life before. They had a lovely little boy who's name was Trin, the little scamp was a trouble maker, but had a good heart. Trin took a little too much after his mother for the group's sanity, both in looks and in personality, it lead to many discussions on why one doesn't just simply attack people for looking at the lad's family.

 

Then there was sweet little Tifol, who was married to the oldest of the brothers, Wonil. Tifol was a quiet archer with black as night hair and a small braided mustache and light beard, he had trained Kili and had taken a tongue lashing for it from Thorin. Wonil was strong and fierce like Dwalin, only he was much less empathetic to others, he stood tall with a red mohawk and a braid-less beard. It was how the two met, Wonil was giving some scouts a hard time and Tifol had snapped at the large warrior. It had lead to the two having quite the yelling match, Tifol had finished it by hitting Wonil right in the nose. Wonil had been taken back by the passion that Tifol had showed and then put all his efforts into wooing the archer. Tifol had never been so afraid in his life, he had thought that Wonil had been trying to get revenge. Wonil had set it all strait after getting horrifically drunk and singing his feelings to Tifol in front of half the mountain. Tifol hadn't been so bluntly embarrassed by his husband since.

 

Then there were the twins, Qwa and Jwa, who were married was well. The two were young, but unlike Fili and Kili, they took their jobs very seriously. No, they weren't warriors like their husbands, they were merchants. The twins had matching braids in their mud brown hair, keeping their hair out of their eyes, with short trimmed beards that sported a single braid. Qwa, the oldest by 3 seconds, was married to the young, but promising warrior Nour. Nour had dark brown hair tied into a ponytail with his beard braided into three large braids. Nour and Qwa had met threw their siblings, Nour had come with his older brother to meet the youngest of the BurnTun brothers. Nour hadn't made a good impression on the boys' father, the elderly dwarf had all but tried to kill Nour with a frying pan. Qwa had stepped in and saved the both from trying to kill each other, Nour had all but hid behind the oldest merchant's son. Nour still denied that he hid behind Qwa to escape the old BurnTun, but he had made sure that his none-existent debt was paid. Both had a fit of jealousy when they thought the other was being courted, it had spurred the two to actually start a relationship. The two were now happily married.

 

Jwa, the youngest twin by 3 seconds, was married to Ydour, who had light brown hair set into complicated braids along his head and two large braids in his beard. Ydour and he had met simply by chance and the two had started to court the other. Ydour was not a emotional dwarf, nor would he pretend to be, but when it came to Jwa, he was but a puddle of emotions. The two were in the final part of the courting when Jwa's father had demanded to met Ydour. The old BurnTun hadn't gotten over the lose of his wife, who had died due to the complications that came with the birth of Qwa and Jwa, he was quite protective over his sons. Jwa had been sent to tears when his father had denied him the right to marry Ydour, the oldest of the warrior brothers of Lunik, had been sent into a fit. He and his brother had tried to destroy the house just to get Jwa back. Jwa's father finally gave in when both the twins were being courted by the warrior brothers, neither pair were complaining.

 

Then there was the lone Re, he was a simple warrior. He was tall like Dwalin, but was kind like Balin. The dwarf had lost his one in the fall of Erebor, and had lived alone ever since. He had bronze hair braided in a long warriors braid with his beard tied at the end. He was good warmhearted and looked after the youngsters of the group, he also was the youngest warrior's mentor. Nlog, was the youngest warrior of the group. He was small like Ori, but he was rather stout. His hair was pulled back into low pig tails, his beard had barly came in, his only pride being his little mustache that was decorated with small wooden beads that Re carved. Nlog had been taken in under Re's care after his family had been killed in the army that tried to hold back Smaug. Re and Nlog had seen each other as uncle and nephew, both ofter rose to the other's defense often. Nlog was like Fili and Kili, young and full of energy, this often caused trouble for old Re, but he did his best to keep the youngster out of trouble.

 

Then there was Plia, who was married to Verch. Their marriage had been aranged, but the two soon grew to love each other. Plia was a blacksmith and a politician, her blond hair was long decorated with looped braids, and her beard thick, but short, full of silver beads. Verch was a warrior son of a power dwarf lord who had offered aid to the survivors of Erebor, but only if he could have his son produce a heir. So Plia's parents were forced to give their daughter to what they thought would be a cruel warrior, but Verch had the personality of Gloin. He had done everything he could to win over the young Plia's heart, went as far as to give up half his share of his father's land to the survivors. Plia was soon won over by Verch's personality and kindness, the warrior sported short hair with a french braid going down the middle ending in a long warrior's braid, his beard thick with only a few small braids woven in. Both wore the other's beads with pride, caring little if they were seen as an odd couple. Their son was a strong lad, who wanted to be a miner. The two had done everything in their power to make sure that their son was on the right path. Vlia, had his father's dark red hair and his mother's face, he was young, but quite talented when it came to mining, he was learning under Bofur.

 

Last was Thorin, who was adopted by Fili, for what reasons it was never said. The dwarf was the youngest of the group only 24 in age, not a child, but not a tween either. He had black hair, that was dark as a ravens, it was set in a “free” style. His hair was pulled back in hidden pigtails, just like Bilbo's husband's, with random braids running threw the length. Thorin was stubborn and prideful, he didn't stray far from Bilbo, he had basically sat in the hobbit's lap till the young dwarf had been sent to bed.

 

Bilbo laughed as the group told him stories of their travels and pasts, all of them were of good sorts and kind spirits. All showing skills in battle and empathy for the Shire's plight, Plia was more then happy to deal with the stubborn leaders, and Qwa and Jwa were excited to see how hobbits did business. The warriors were setting up shifts and were happy to have full bellies, the trip had taken a toll on all of them. The whole group had taken to Frodo, well all but Thorin.

 

Tifol had become Bilbo's favorite, he loved all the others, but Tifol was more then understanding with Bilbo's position as uncle. The two had spent most of the night talking about their favorite books and stories of their youth. It turned out that Tifol was friends with Ori and had always wanted to meet King Thorin's consort. He had been pleased to find out that Bilbo was just as Ori had described, the two were become close friends.

 

Bilbo laughed as he set the group up for the night, Bifur had claimed him as a teddy bear. He wasn't going to discourage his family form doing what ever they pleased in his home, it had been too long since he had seen any of them.

 

With a large smile he thought that maybe this would work out just fine. They would all survive this winter and he would see his family again, all of them.  


	2. Grip On Tightly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really things were starting to get out of hand. Bilbo was having trouble with a certain dwarf, and Thorin was just frustrated with the whole situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opes, creepy!Thorin has appeared. Some violence and gore, not a lot though.  
> I'm almost sorry for this...

Thorin sat in one of the many chairs of Bag End scowling. It really hadn't been his fault, he yet again, underestimated his strength and broke something. This time it was half of Bilbo's crops and pottery. He had only been trying to help. Bilbo stuck him in time out because he then had a fit and blamed Bilbo. He hadn't meant to yell at his hobbit, his frustration was just leaking threw.

 

That though, was the root of his problem, he was so very close to his hobbit, but couldn't have him. No, everyone kept getting in the way, every dwarf thwarted his attempts of telling his husband. Most of them knew who he was, but were forcing him to keep it a secret. He didn't care what they said, Fili could go eat glass, he had waited 24 years to see Bilbo again. He wasn't going to wait any longer.

 

He by some sort of miracle had been reborn, he had met Gandalf and the wizard explained everything. He had been given his last chance to atone for what he did in the past. He had been only 10, still a babe, when the wizard appeared with Fili and Kili in tow; both muttering about how they didn't believe the wizard. At the first sight of Gandalf all his memories came back to him, memories from when he had been a king. Memories of his hobbit, his consort. Memories of his company and family. Memories of what he had done.

 

The whole kingdom had been in uproar, not knowing who to fallow. Many were split between Fili and the former king Thorin, but Thorin didn't care for leading the kingdom any more, he would act as adviser to his nephews. He had done his duty to his people, he no longer wished to be king. Not without his hobbit by his side. It had gone well, but the memories of Bilbo had plagued him, the way how he had treated his hobbit. He remembered how he had cast Bilbo out, he remembered their wedding day. He remembered how the hobbit smiled, how his eyes glittered with tears. He hungered for the very presence of his hobbit, he spent many sleepless nights trying to find anything that might smell like Bilbo, if only so that he could take comfort in it. He would have just taken his consort from the Shire, but Fili had refused to let him leave Erebor or force Bilbo to Erebor.

 

Thorin was beyond enraged, who was his nephew to say that he couldn't have his husband? He had nearly killed Fili in cold blood, his body may have been smaller and weaker, but it didn't hinder his skills. He knew that his nephew had a point, his body wasn't mature enough. He didn't care, he needed Bilbo, every fiber of his being needed to know that his hobbit was safe.

 

When the letter had arrived there was now nothing that could stop him, he remembered every time Bilbo had woken from nightmarish sleep. He would rather cut off his own, soon to be growing, beard then let his hobbit suffer any more. He would never let anything happen to Bilbo again, nothing would cause his hobbit tears this time. He would make sure that nothing happened to his hobbit, he had planed more then what was needed for the trip. They had extra supplies, and enough furs to keep every hobbit in the Shire warm.

 

Sadly, he had forgotten that Bilbo didn't know that he was, well him. He had over looked the small fact that Bilbo didn't know that he was a live. He had over looked the fact that it had been 25 years since he had last seen Bilbo. His hobbit looked so different, so much more fragile since the last time he saw Bilbo. He had almost ran strait for his hobbit, but Wonil kept him back. He would never forgive the warrior for that because he was plagued with anger, white hot jealous anger.

 

For the first day upon arriving at the Shire he had seethed in rage. The whole reason for his anger had been Frodo. He had be shaking with anger every time he saw the runt of a hobbit. To him Frodo represented that someone had touched Bilbo, someone had taken Bilbo, someone had swooped in and stole Bilbo. Someone had given Bilbo what he never could; a child.

 

He was luckily set strait when Frodo had addressed Bilbo as uncle, it had made him crumple over in relief. Bilbo was still his, his alone. It was selfish, but he knew he couldn't share Bilbo's smiles with anyone, he was after all a dwarf. But, the young hobbit had done good by keeping Bilbo safe, he was actually quite proud of the young hobbit. Frodo didn't have that bad of a form when it came to swords. The two had grown close... ish, they both agreed to protect Bilbo, but he was still unable to share Bilbo's attention with Frodo willingly.

 

But his main problem was Bilbo himself, the hobbit still hadn't figured out that he was Bilbo's husband. Really it should have been obvious, he had given Bilbo all the right gifts and had beaten off unwanted suitors. He had done what he had promised to do in his past life and more. He had given Bilbo gifts that can only be exchanged between a married couple; such as beads that he had forged him self, carved wooden totems and necklaces, and even braided Bilbo's hair. Well, braiding hair was reserved for family and married couples. He had all but shouted his declaration of love and claim of being the husband of Bilbo.

 

So here he sat, brooding with Bilbo in the other room talking with Tifol, Wonil was asleep on a couch. He could hear the two talking, he could hear Tifol trying to console his hobbit. If he wasn't afraid of facing Bilbo's wrath then he would be out there doing it himself, but Bilbo had made it clear, he wasn't to leave this chair for the next hour or else.

 

“Foolish hobbit.” Thorin grumbled to himself. He couldn't leave the chair but he would listen in.

 

“I-I don't know what to do about him, he keeps acting so much like- like- like Thorin!” Bilbo's distressed voice didn't calm down Thorin's nerves. He hadn't meant to upset Bilbo, he was just acting like a husband should. He wished for nothing more then to be back in his adult body and to hold his hobbit. He would wrap Bilbo up in a protective embrace whispering words of comfort, but he couldn't, he was still a child.

 

“I'm sure he means well Master Baggins. Thorin has... looked up to you since he was adopted by Fili. King Thorin and you are widely worshiped heroes.” Tifol said with a soothing tone. The archer was only trying to keep the secret and console Bilbo. He still didn't like the archer though, the dwarf had converted Kili to the sissy use of elvish weapons.

 

“That's just it! He isn't just giving me hero worship, which I don't deserve, he's giving me gifts that only married couples do! I- I don't know how to handle them, they aren't from Thorin- my Thorin, and it's just wrong for me to take them, but- but he gives me these hopeful looks and I can't say no! He's worse then my husband!”

 

Thorin pursed his lips, he hadn't meant to upset Bilbo with his gifts. He had given the gifts as a way to help make up for lost time and to comfort his hobbit, like a husband who had been off to war should. Growling, he gave a quick sweep of the room with his eyes, he was going to get his hobbit. He cared little for what ever punishment he may receive. Climbed out of the large chair he gave a small curse at his now feeble size in comparison to what he once was, he had more important things to do then to pout in a chair. Like making sure his hobbit felt loved and well. Quickly he moved to the other room, making eye contact with his distressed hobbit.

 

Bilbo was sitting in his father's chair, eyes slightly puffy and breath uneven. His clothes were disheveled and his hand wringing the bottom of his shirt nervously. Thorin was taken back, he just looked so small. His eyes focused on the young dwarf with a flash of anxiety.

 

“Thorin! You, young man, are in time out!” Bilbo said hotly, his cheeks puffed out in rage and his shoulders square. He wasn't going to have his tea time ruined by this little menace.

 

Thorin snorted while making his way over to the green chair, giving Bilbo a hard stare before reaching his arms up towards the hobbit. He was going to comfort Bilbo, whether the hobbit wanted it or not. He let out a pleased sound when his hobbit gave up and pulled him into the soft lap. He missed being near Bilbo, it was good just to be near his hobbit.

 

Glaring at the green chair's arm and resting his head on Bilbo's chest, he gave a small sigh. “I'm sorry.”

 

Bilbo blinked in surprise, he hadn't been expecting that. Ignoring the small chuckle that Tifol gave, he wrapped his arms around the small body of Thorin. The lad's voice was so very small and prideful. “You remind me of my husband, you know that?”

 

Tifol chocked on his sip of tea, well this was going down hill fast. Giving a panicked look to his husband for help,but the fool was still sleeping. Silently sending a curse to his lazy husband, who was blissfully unaware of the crises about to unfold in the room. He began to think at a breakneck pace, Bilbo wasn't supposed to know that Thorin was the former King under the mountain. Gnawing on his lip he made a split second decision. “Bilbo! Why don't you tell us something about your trip to Erebor?”

 

He tried not to flinch back at the look that Thorin gave him, he really did. Somehow, even though Thorin was in the body of a child, the former King under the mountain still sent shivers of fear up his spine. He decided not to dwell on that fact, if his little hobbit friend could do it, then he could too.

 

Bilbo blinked at his friend in surprise, Tifol's voice was so hurried and panicked. He gave Thorin a particularly hard look before thinking of a story to tell. Leaning back slightly he began to think, the first thing that came to his mind was Thorin, his husband. Letting his eyes glaze over with particularly fond memories, he's lips moved into a lazy smile. His voice ringing out threw the lonely hole with a pleasant note. “Thorin Oakenshield, was one of the strangest dwarrows to ever live. He was strong, fearless in the face of danger, passionate, and a good leader, who shouldered the problems of his people personally. Sadly, his passion would sometimes run away with his head, he would become jealous over the silliest things.”

 

Thorin huffed in Bilbo's lap, he had perfectly good reasons to be jealous. Every one was after his perfect little hobbit, but Bilbo was his. He, even though he was a king, had to remake his claim time and time again. Some folks were just so dense.

 

Tifol gave a small laugh, “I know my husband is the same! He acts as though I would ever **want** to leave him! You should have seen him right after he sang his feelings of me to half the Blue mountain. One of my best friends, Moint, had tried to usher me back inside. He knew I was about to faint in embarrassment, but Wonil caught sight of my friend's hand on my shoulder and flung himself right at poor Moint.”

 

“Now Moint was bigger then me, but he was still a scout; who was light on his feet and a good archer. He was no match for Wonil, a trained heavily armored warrior. The two fell into a heap, Wonil too drunk to have any proper coordination, and Moint too afraid for his life.” Tifol took a small sip of his tea, “I moved over towards the two after the brawl had calmed down, my dagger in hand just encase I had to defend myself. Wonil, by some sort of drunk's miracle, had Moint locked in a choke hold and shouting about how my best friend was trying to steal me away.”

 

Bilbo giggled into little Thorin's hair, his husband had done many things akin to that. His husband would always swear that someone was trying to steal him away, as if he would allow anything to steal him a way form Thorin. Tifol was a good friend, and he could relate to the dwarf's “jealous husband” problems. It was nice just to sit and talk about his husband, and not have to explain why he married a dwarf to his remaining family.

 

“When I was close enough, Wonil forgot about my friend, who he was suffocating, and tackled me to the ground in a hug. We ended up with our beards tangled up in a heap, and Dwalin having to come and remove Wonil from my presence. I didn't think I could look my friends in the eye for a very long time, it wasn't until Wonil came back the next day, hung over to the underworld and back, with one of my beads that I began to look at him in a positive light.”

 

“You still love me for it,” Wonil said sleepily form the other side of the room, his hair tangled and one side flat from sleeping on it, “I don't regret hitting him either, I don't share my lovely archer with any one.”

 

“Y-You had no right to punch Moint! He couldn't see out of his right eye for weeks!” Tifol scowled, his voice echoing threw the room. His face bright with embarrassment, his husband was just so blunt, saying things that shouldn't be said in front of company.

 

“I had every right! Well, at the time I didn't, but I do now!” Wonil tired to defend himself, throwing up his hands in surrender.

 

Tifol's cheeks puffed out, his beard swaying with the rapid movement from his mouth, “Now, let me tell you something! You have no right to PUNCH my best friend in the face, six time! Or put him in a chock hold for so long that he passes out! You, sir, most certainly don't have the right to threaten my captain, who...”

 

Bilbo clutched Thorin and giggled harder at the arguing couple. Thorin just shook his head form the warmth of Bilbo's chest. “Foolish dwarrows”, he mumbled under his breath.

 

Laughing Bilbo sat Thorin down on the ground, his bad mood completely forgotten. Waving goodbye to Tifol he pushed Thorin out to the kitchen. Really the archer was a good friend, but once you got the dwarf talking there was no stopping it. Best to have a snack and wait for the fight to blow over.

 

Well, he would if he had any food to eat. He gave a pitied sigh when he saw the state of his kitchen and pantry. He really missed dwarrows, just not their eating habits.

 

“Well Thorin, lad, it looks like we will have to do some emergency food stocking,” Bilbo said with a disgusted up curl of his lips. Flicking the molded bread way as though it might eat him, he turned to heave a sigh at the sad left overs of his dried fruit. “We should leave now or else there will be nothing for Supper.”

 

“Alright,” Thorin eagerly nodded before running off to get his cloche and shoes. Bilbo didn't approve of any of the group tacking mud into the house, and the home was still warm despite the bitter chill outside. He had been forced to share a room with Frodo, so he kept all of his things there, including his boots. He would have shared a room with Bilbo, but Bofur and Bifur stopped him.

 

Bilbo chuckled as Thorin ran off to grab the lad's things, his jacket, that he wished he had taken with him on his journey, was hanging up in the foyer. Grabbing a coin purse he swept his way towards the door to wait for Thorin. Like Frodo, Thorin didn't like it when he left without someone to “watch” him. He had learned that it was better to just wait, and not deal with the dwarf threatening his neighbors.

 

Last time he had went off with out the dwarf, poor Samwise Gamgees nearly received a broken arm courtesy of Thorin all because Frodo's best friend wouldn't say where he went to “strange dwarven folk”, as the young hobbit so brilliantly put it. It had taken Frodo and the twins; Jwa and Qwa, a few minutes to pry Thorin off of Sam, and neither of the boys could look at each other without scowling at the other to this day.

 

Soon Thorin came waddling towards Bilbo, his dark blue cloche lined with boar fur draped over his small shoulders. His thick boats, that were made for much harsher weather, barely strapped on and flopping with his ever step. What took Bilbo by surprise was the the shinning new beads, he must have just forged them Bilbo thought. Staring with proud eyes and a puffed out chest Thorin nodded as if he was mentally preparing himself for an epic quest.

 

“I'm ready,” Thorin spoke, his voice still high with his young age, but confident. He wasn't going to become comfortable with his “new” voice, not with reacquiring dreams of his past life where he already went threw puberty.

 

Bilbo gave his own nod and smiled down at the young dwarf. He offered his hand out to Thorin, Frodo didn't take his hand anymore, the lad claimed to be too old for it. He really did miss the times where he had his own silent comfort from the warmth of another's hand in his. Glancing at Thorin, who's cheeks heated up in embarrassment, but the lad's face was still stern. He let out a small laugh, Thorin was just too cute of a small child and it felt nice to have the small comfort of the dwarf's hand. Thorin just griped his hand tighter at his laugh.

 

“What! How is it my fault that your mother wants to behead me? She challenged me to the honor fight!” Wonil's distressed voice rang out threw the hobbit whole as the duo left. The dwarf may have been strong, loving, and a good family man, but he didn't know when to stop talking, Bilbo thought with a shake of his head.

 

The trip to the market was average, the two said hello to any hobbits who they passed, well Bilbo did, Thorin just griped Bilbo's hand tighter and scowled. They picked up what Bilbo could carry, some dried apples, and had the rest to arrive at Bag End in an hour or so. The whole time, Thorin didn't let go of Bilbo's hand, in fact the small dwarf's grip was almost painful for the middle aged hobbit, but it was a nice trip.

 

Bilbo hummed as he walked, pipe hanging out of the corner of his mouth, and a twinkle in his eye. Today had been a good day, yes Thorin did destroy some of his plants and pottery, but it was still a good day. He knew the dwarf meant well, he knew that Thorin had only wanted to help with harvesting some of the vegetables and cleaning, but the lad underestimated the strength of a dwarf. It was nice, even though things didn't go according to plan for either of them, but it was nice.

 

“Do you hate him, your husband?”

 

Thorin's voice rang out threw the quiet afternoon air, it sounded feeble even in his own ears. He was tired, so very tired of Bilbo not acknowledging their marriage. He had worked so hard for Bilbo's approval, but it never came, he kept doing something wrong.

 

Maybe, just maybe, he thought, that Bilbo hated him. And his husband had every right to; he had thrown Bilbo out of Erebor, cursed his husband's name, and then had the nerve to die. To die and with a worthless apology like a coward on his death bed. He had no right to even claim Bilbo as his, he had in every sense shamed himself and their consummation of their marriage.

 

Bilbo had every right to toss him away and take another, Bilbo had every right to hate him. Bilbo had every right to remove the braids form the curly blond locks, Bilbo had every right to throw away the ring he gave his hobbit. Bilbo had every right to loathe his very existence, Bilbo had every right to never want to even speak his name ever again, Thorin thought threw bitter tears.

 

Bilbo paused to see the child at his side, fat tears were streaming down little Thorin's face. It look dreadfully wrong, it looked as if his husband had been crying in front of him. The young dwarf's hold didn't let go of his hand, but he could see it in the dwarf's face. Thorin was struggling with the very thought of having to let go of his hand.

 

Uncaring, he dropped the apples and kneeled in front of the young dwarf, keeping their hands connected. He cooed and wiped away Thorin's tears with his free hand, brushing his forehead up against the small dwarf's. Thorin refused to look at him, the dwarf's eyes screwed shut, trying not to acknowledge the fact that the little dwarf was crying.

 

“Shush”, Bilbo cooed when Thorin hiccuped, “I don't hate Thorin Oakenshield, Thorin, I don't hate my husband. I still love him the same as I did 24 years ago. I'm just so very sad that I can't see him, I can't see him's eyes shimmer when he smiles, I can't see the twitch of his lip when he's happy, I can't see the darkening of his eyes when he is angry or determined. I can't see that anymore, not ever again, and it makes me sad because you look and act so much like him.”

 

Thorin's breath hitched, Bilbo didn't hate him, no, Bilbo still loved him. Bilbo loved him like he loved Bilbo. He shamelessly revealed in the touch of his hobbit's hand on his face, it had been too long since Bilbo had last shared an intimate touch with him. He breathed in the scent that was purely Bilbo, bathed in the pressure of the foreheads meeting. Finally he opened his eyes, his still frosty blue eyes meeting Bilbo's speckled green eyes, “I'm not de-”

 

“Mister Baggins! Are you and the lad alright?”

 

Thorin gave a watered down snarl, he knew that hobbit's voice. He knew it almost as well as Frodo's and Bilbo's. Viciously wiping way his tears in disgrace, he gave the older hobbit as fearsome of a glare as he could give with red, glossy eyes and dried tear trails running down his face. He moved closer to Bilbo when the other hobbit gave a small chuckle, his hand clenching around their still conjoined hands, ignoring the small hiss of pain his that left his hobbit's lips.

 

“Oh! Oh yes, just a bit of emotions you see.” Bilbo stated nervously, his eyes darting around to find the fallen apple sack. Licking his lips nervously he briefly let his eyes flicker out to the hobbit before him.

 

Dudley Retierier; a middle age hobbit with a small family fortune behind him. He was an average hobbit, short with the average weight on him. His complexion light and his hair a light brown, and eyes a honey brown. He had been quite sought after in his young days, but none really caught his fancy. He did however have a bit of a wondrous roll in the hay with a Took or two, but they didn't have the finesse of a Baggins. Bilbo Baggins, however, did, Bilbo Baggins had everything he was looking for.

 

Bilbo gave a small nod of thanks when Dudley pointed to the sack of apples. He didn't know why he was so nervous when Dudley was around, he figured it might have been because of the other hobbit's staring. Moving his pipe with the muscles in his lips, he gave Dudley a small smile to hide the shiver going up his back. The pressure in his hand and right hip were starting to cause some real damage, he winced, it was time to head back home.

 

“Are you on your way back home, Mister Baggins?” Dudley smoothly said. He ignored the glowering mess beside Bilbo, he had more important things to do. Like figuring out how to ask said hobbit to dinner.

 

“Oh, yes. My house guest can eat quite a lot and I wasn't properly prepared.”

 

Dudley felt his lip curl up wards in victory, he had something he could finally use to get Bilbo away form that annoying nephew and stalker of a dwarf. Offering out his hand to take the apples, he gave the two a charming smile. “Why don't I take those from you Mister Baggins? It's such a nice afternoon, I thought why not go for a walk, but it would be un-neighborly of me to let you carry those all the way up to Bag End.”

 

“Why thank you Mister Retierier, that's very kind of you.” Bilbo offered Dudley a small smile, the other hobbit was taller then him by only an inch, but Dudley had more muscle then Bilbo.

 

Thorin snarled as he watch the fat, ugly hobbit brush hands with Bilbo. His teeth ground together form the force of his jaw strength. He had scared this Dudley off two days ago, what was this creature doing back?

 

Bilbo use his now free hand to readjust his pipe, really Dudley didn't seem like such a bad fellow. It was just that the hobbit's constant staring at him bothered him. Yes, Thorin stared, his husband would watch him constantly, but Dudley's eyes didn't have the same look or feeling that Thorin's did. Dudley stared as if he was a piece of meat or a glass of water for a dieing man. It made his shoulders drop and his eyes dart around, always trying to appear smaller, always looking for an escape rout.

 

“I take it dwarrows eat a lot?”

 

“Yes, my friends do eat a lot. They eat as much as we do in just three meals.”

 

Dudley blinked in surprise, “That's a lot to take in in one time! How can they walk around after words?”

 

Bilbo gave a small laugh, they were still too far away form the house for him to say good bye yet. “They asked me something similar when they found out that we had seven meals day. They kept asking me where did it all fit.”

 

Thorin interjected, “It's because you're so tiny. We don't get where it all goes and how you stay so small.”

 

Dudley sneered at the little dwarf, it was almost sickening how improper the dwarf was. There was no proper relationship between the two, but the dwarf watched Bilbo like a jealous suitor. The dwarf was also holding Bilbo's hand, it just wasn't done. A hobbit doesn't just hold hands with friends, no that is reserved for family and one's spouse. Which the dwarf was neither.

 

Bilbo snorted at Thorin's comment, yes that sounded about right. Almost every dwarf he had met was larger then him in some aspect. When he could almost match Bombur in eating and not get as big, he knew right away that there were more obvious differences between the two species.

 

“So while you are entertaining dwarrows, will you be spending some time with other hobbits?” Dudley quickly changed the topic back to the track he wanted it to fallow. He had been looking for an excuse to get the Master of Bag End in his house for quite some time, he wasn't going to miss his chance.

 

“Oh, I suppose not,” Bilbo hummed in thought, puffing out a smoke ring, “No, I don't think so. Dwalin and Wonil scared everyone away last time someone tired to visit me. I understand though, those two can be quite fearsome in the morning, but they are rather sweet once you get to know them.”

 

Dudley nearly grinned with the perfection of his plan. Turning slightly towards Bilbo he gave his most dashing smile, “Then why don't you and I have supper sometime?”

 

Thorin's eyes darkened and his gaze turned back to the creature a few feet away form him. He watched as Bilbo flushed and tried to stutter out an answer. The last words of the conversation playing threw his head over and over again. This thing wanted to steal Bilbo, this thing was trying to court his hobbit. This hobbit was trying to touch Bilbo. This filthy hobbit was fantasizing about HIS Bilbo. This creature wanted to run it's hands over Bilbo like a lover does, this creature wanted to own Bilbo like he did.

 

His eyes glazed over, his muscles taut, his instincts registering every movement the filth made. Waiting only a heart beat, Thorin untangled his hand from Bilbo's, and propelled his shoulder into the stomach of the filth that dared to touch what was his. He watched in twisted satisfaction as the hobbit fell to the ground, apples rolling out of their confined sack.

 

Dudley made a small wheezing sound and hugged his arms over his aching stomach. This wasn't happening, no one had ever struck him before. Not even a slap for bad behavior, but this brat of a dwarf had just about made him take a double take at his last meal. Pulling his lips back into a snarl he prepared to yell at the runt, he was stopped by a fist smashing into his jaw.

 

Thorin pulled back his now throbbing hand, the pain felt good. It felt good to smash this worthless piece of scum's face in. Ramming his body again into the already disgruntled hobbit's, he relished in the thunk that they hobbit's body made when it made contact with a stone fence of one of the farmers.

 

He felt it, the deafening roar, as he took the filth’s collar in his hands. The rush of his blood, blocking out the sound of the world, leaving him with a blood curdling fear. He had felt it many times in his life; when the dragon attacked, at the mines of Moria, and at the Battle of the Five Armies, and like all the other times it was accompanied by a familiar voice. A voice that whispered terrifying truths in his ear.

 

“ _He will try to take Bilbo from you. He will try to touch the hobbit as you have. He will run his hands all over Bilbo, marking him, showing the world that your hobbit is no-longer yours. He will show Bilbo what you couldn't have, he will give Bilbo what you never could. He won't die and leave Bilbo alone, he won't leave to mourn the death of a crown-less king who was the real betrayer.”_

 

Thorin snarled, his knuckles turning white, his bones popping from the unfamiliar force. Slowly he moved their faces closer together, he smelled the blood on the hobbit's breath. He had made the hobbit bleed. Good, he thought with a vicious headbutt, knocking the hobbit's head back again. This headbutt was so very different then the headbutting of kin, this one was meant to cause permanent damage to you enemy's scull.

 

“NO! You will not touch him. You will not touch **my** Bilbo. You will not look at my consort.” His voice sounded so much deeper threw the deafening sound in his ears. His voice range threw his head, rattling something lose. His voice grew with volume and rage. “You will not take him from me! I will not lose him again, he is **mine** , my burglar! **I** will give him all he needs, **you** will never speak or look at him again!”

 

Thorin smashed Dudley's head back into the wall, watching with fascination as the blood started to smear from his forceful moving of the hobbit's head. He breathed in this creature's pain, it wasn't any where close to his, but it was getting there. Oh, yes, he would make this thing pay for touching his hobbit. He would take revenge for all the times this filth looked upon his hobbit when he wasn't able to, he was just getting started.

 

“I have died, pathetically on my death bed, begging for **his** forgiveness! I have waited 24 years to see him again, to hold him, and **you** think that he is yours? He gave himself to me on our wedding night,” Thorin hissed loudly, his eyes taking in the pained look that took root in the hobbit's eyes, swimming in the fear Dudley displayed. This creature wasn't suffering enough.

 

Thorin moved his knee to where it would pin down the hobbit's right hand, he cared little for what ever damage this filth could do to him. His face twisted into a frightful smile when he felt the soft hobbit's fingers break under his knee, the sound being fallowed by a familiar gasp. His muscles bunched up, no he couldn't stop now, this filth would try to touch Bilbo again. Nothing would have his hobbit, **but him**.

 

His voice back to its previous volume and power from when he was a king, “I will not give him to anyone else! I have traveled across middle Earth, gave up my title as King for him! What could you possibly offer him? Could you offer him devotion that would defy death? Could you bathe him in the finest jewels? Would you throw yourself on a sword if he asked you?”

 

“He is mine! I have seen him cry! I have loved him in ways you could only dream of! I have tasted his flesh, I have dried his tears, I have made him smile the brightest. He is mine! My consort! My husband! He. Is. My. One!”

 

He punctuated his final statement with the last crack of Dudley's scull on the wall. His voice dark and deeper then it should be for his body, it was how he used to speak in his past life. “He is mine to protect, **mine**. I will keep him form filth like you. And no one, **no one** will take him from me again!”

 

Bilbo shook, he hadn't seen anything like this since Thorin had exiled him form Erebor. His eyes blured with tears, his hands shook. He didn't feel his pipe slip form his mouth, but he heard the familiar sound of bones breaking, the sounds of war-cries.

 

Breathing in a broken sob, Bilbo watched with horror. This wasn't real, this wasn't happening, this wasn't his husband, this wasn't little Thorin. Curling his hands in front of himself protectively he took a selfish step back. “No.” He breathed as he took in the carnage. This was all just one of his twisted nightmares.

 

Thorin let the unconscious hobbit's shirt slip form his grip, he had done what his culture demanded. He would protect his husband from all who would try to take the hobbit. Slowly staggering to his feet, he turned feeling triumph explode threw his veins. He slowly moved his eyes over Bilbo's shaking form, his hobbit looked smaller then Bilbo should have. Why was Bilbo so upset, he had explained that this was normal in dwarven marriages.

 

A flash of realization hit, Bilbo didn't know he was Thorin, The Thorin Oakenshield; King under the mountain. Slowly he moved foreword as if he was approaching a wounded animal. He watched as Bilbo's eye traveled between his bloodied hands and an unconscious body.

 

“Bilbo,” Thorin spoke softly, his voice a cooing whisper, “It's me, my burglar, it me. I've come back for you.”  
  


Thorin had expected sobbing or shouting of rage, maybe a joyful tears. He was not expecting Bilbo to faint in the middle of one of the many dirt pathways of the Shire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Bilbo fainted and I'm an ass. I should stop reading Creepy!Thorin fanfiction, it fucks with the mind. ((Is this considered OOC?))  
> Caylren approves! And we exchanged some story ideas! I was just worried because the main concept was from a comic that he/she made. Using other people's work/ideas/things as your own is wrong, especially when you claim ownership of them.  
> FWI, I don't own the hobbit, if I did it would prosperously be extra ship-tastic.  
> ((When you make a very embarrassing spelling mistake...  
>  (┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻ ))


	3. Happy Endings Take a Lot of Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things may not always start out good, but if one tries hard enough, good things can come from a bad situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gipsies are more fun to write then I first thought.

Dwalin scrubbed at his face, flung up his arms, and was making an impressive dip in the floor of Bag End. His boots leaving a nasty trail of dirt, and the force of his stomping and ruffed up leather boots were ripping the carpet to shreds. Had Bilbo been awake the hobbit would have been screeching like a banshee.

Bofur watched as the proud warrior paced for a few more minutes, before Dwalin gave a poor innocent door frame a splintering punch. Sighing he looked away from his friend, he and Dwalin may not have been close, but they were friends, and friends gave each other soothing words.

Blowing off his soon to be whittled hedgehog, Bofur put up his hands in surrender. He spoke in calming voice, light with his natural tone. “I'm not saying how Thorin went about telling Bilbo was the right way of doing it, but he had every right to attack that Rerieire- what ever that hobbit's name was.”

Dwalin quickly turned on his heels, purposely ignoring his former king's presence. His face twisted in anger, his hands and voice equally showing how he felt about the situation. “That's not the problem! The problem is the fact how he,” he gave a vicious point at Thorin's direction, “caused Bilbo to faint AND went against the rules we had in place to PROTECT our burglar!”

Thorin glared from the couch, Bilbo's head rested in his lap. He had dragged Bilbo all the way back to Bag End, leaving the knocked-out filth of a hobbit unconscious where he had beaten the creature. Wonil and Tifol had interrogated him and then called for Dwalin, Bifur, and Bofur. All three were furious.

Bifur was currently curled around both Bilbo and Thorin, his eyes flickered to the windows occasionally, assessing his surroundings and hissing at the yelling from outside. He had gone on a righteous tantrum; turning over furniture and destroying the garden. He was worriedly cursing in Khuzdul, making wild hand gestures, and breathing out pathetic whining sounds. His hands were barely occupied by running them over Bilbo's torso, as if his petting would keep their burglar from harm.

Bofur was sitting in Bilbo's green chair, trying to keep his hands busy. His mind whirling while his hands stayed steady, his knife slowly carving out the hedgehog. His breathing slow and heavy, his eyes darting over to his small family on the couch. His family, his cousin and adoptive brother, sat on the couch, one past out and the other's mind almost gone with anxiety. He knew that Bifur had suffered during the separation from their hobbit, the speech impaired dwarf had almost never left Bilbo's side. It was Bifur's worst fear to lose another family member, especially after so many had been taken from the dwarf. The one time Bifur had left the hobbit alone was today, and he knew that his cousin would feel responsible for what happened to Bilbo.

Bifur had made this clear by the frantic rants of apologies and pleadings to Mahal. His eyes wilder than usual and his hands switching between petting their hobbit and clutching the ripped arm of the couch. Both Dwalin and Bofur cringed back at the mixed whined and snarled sound that left his lips when the shouts from outside the den grew louder.

Everyone in the Shire had heard about how Thorin had acted to Dudley, none knowing why the young dwarf attacked one of their own, but the hobbits now feared the dwarrows again. The group had heard the whispers of fear, Jwa and Qwa were the first, alerting the others of what they had heard in the market; Dudley had claimed to be unfairly attacked by the dwarven youth and that the dwarrows weren't to be trusted.

Plia and Re doing their best to keep the hobbits passive and trying to explain the situation. Verch standing next to his wife, and their son holding fiercely to his mother's skirt. Both males of the Contr family offering Plia their support and not-so-subtle protection. 

Nlog was fighting viciously against Ydour's and Nour's grip, shouting that if the hobbits laid a hand on his 'Uncle' he would make them regret it. The young warrior's cries doing little to settle the ever jittery nerves of the hobbits. Jwa and Qwa shifted nervously through pantry trying to scrounge up some food to calm the hobbits down, well this was a right mess of their trip and business venture they thought feverishly.

The rest of the group sat solemnly out side of the lushes, green door of Bag End. The warriors offering their silent support and protection, while the children huddled close to their parents. For the first time in a very great while, the dwarrows wished for the help of a certain wizard.

Dwalin cursed loudly, his temper flaring. Bilbo had become one of his closest friends, and all the dwarrows ever seemed to do was cause trouble for their hobbit. Grinding his teeth, Dwalin leaned back against the splintered door frame, and folded his arms in a form of protection and prayer. First they raided their hobbit's home, then they put their hobbit in dangerous situations; trolls, wargs, orcs, unsightly elves, greedy men, and a grouchy dragon. Only to have their king throw the hobbit out of Erebor, while the company did nothing, who called themselves the hobbit's kin, and then they let their little hobbit return home without their protection. Glaring a burning hole in the floor he spat in disgust at his friends' and his own actions, now add in the fact how they just caused trouble for the whole Shire and their hobbit, all thanks to the foolish temper of his former king.

He had been ecstatic when news of Thorin's rebirth echoed across Erebor; he was getting back an old friend. It was a momentous occasion, a huge feast had been thrown and he received his old friend's blessing to court a certain scribe. Thorin and him continued on like they did before the gold fever and the Battle of the five armies happened; sparing, enjoying the other's company, putting up with political horse crap, and speaking of their Ones.

Dwalin had felt a horrific stab of guilt every time he was able to enjoy the company of Ori. The scribe and him tried to keep their affections controlled in the presence of Thorin, both knowing the former king's pining pain. Not many dwarrows could survive being separated from their One, he could already feel the pain of being separated from Ori. He would have brought Ori along, but like his brother, Balin, Ori was needed in Erebor.

Two of the dwarrows gave a fierce growl when a cry was heard from one of the hobbits.

“Where is Mister Bilbo? What have you done to him?”

Bofur recognized the fearful cry as it echoed around the room in terror. The shriek of fear was by a distant cousin of Bilbo's, a Padfoot if he remembered correctly. He had never been so glad that Frodo was off fishing with Nori before, the two were in for quite a surprise when they returned.

Slowly the hobbit's quieted down, their voices now nothing but a mummer in the wind. The dwarrows' stances were now relaxed rather than ridged and ready for battle. This was the exact moment Bilbo awoken.

Bilbo held his head, his eyes blurry and his mind heavy with memories of the day. Groaning he leaned into the comforting pressure on his head. His thoughts were heavy and swimming, like the ceiling. Groggily rubbing his eyes, he glanced at the worried faces of the dwarrows lounging about in his sitting room. His eyes taking in Dwalin's angry, but worried face, Bofur's excited smile, Bifur's bright eyes and wide smile, and Thorin-

In a flash the day's events brutally assaulted his mind without mercy. With a gasp Bilbo fell off the couch in shock. Thorin wasn't dead. Bilbo spoke, his throat sore from the lack of use and his voice cracked in hysteria. “Dead, you're dead! I saw you? I saw you!”

Flinching back for the sound of impending footsteps, Bilbo glanced over his shoulder to at Dwalin. Dwalin moved quickly to hurl their burglar off the floor, while Bofur tried to keep Bifur at bay.

Pushing Bilbo behind him, Dwalin gave the former king a pointed look. Thorin had tried to pull Bilbo back, the dwarf's blue eyes wide and lost with out the hobbit close by. Satisfied that Thorin would stay back, for a little while, Dwalin turned to their burglar. Setting his hands on petite shoulders Dwalin gave a wistful sigh, what he wouldn't give to avoid this.

“We don't really know our selves, Gandalf showed up one day claiming to have found Thorin, alive and well. We were suspicious at first, as we buried our king in the mountain, but the wizard swore that Thorin was alive. Fili and Kili went with the wizard and came back with a child, most of the company was even more suspicious, at lest till the child started talking.” Giving a serious pause, Dwalin looked Bilbo in the eye. “Bilbo, Thorin is THE Thorin Oakensheild, as in your husband. He's been reborn, he remembers everything and we have been trying to keep you two separate for everyone's safety. We also didn't want you fainting again, Oin is still worried about that.”

“Excuse me!” Bilbo rested his head in his hands, his head was swimming. Letting out a sob he leaned into Dwalin's comforting embrace.

Resting an arm around the hobbit's shoulder Dwalin gave a snort, he thought the explanation was pretty clear. “By dwaven law; you both are still married, but Thorin won't be of age for another 60 years. It is one of the largest taboos in our culture, to have this kind of relationship with one who is underage. We knew as soon as you and Thorin were reunited that many would have thrown a fit about your union, and now a select few, who have been against your union in the first place, would have something to use against us. The would have cried in out rage and demanded your execution.”

Thorin bristled behind Dwalin's back, “They will never lay a finger on him.”

Bilbo squawked at the dark possessive undertone of the dwarf's voice. Feeling his curls sway from the rapid release of air from Dwalin's nose soothed him a bit. “Too much”, he said in a small mummer, “Too much.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bilbo had never gone through so much pipe-weed in such a short time. Than again it was the only time he had a “valid” excuse to get away for his house guest. His nerves had been shot for the past week; fellow hobbits asking if the dwarves were safe, Thorin's obsession, Frodo's meddling,Bifur's constant petting, Bifur's constant mothering and the dwaves being dwarves. He was ready to fall over from exhaustion.

Frodo and Nori had returned home to him addressing a mob of hobbits about dwarvish culture, Nori had to hold onto the fence in order to stay on his feet after laughing so hard. The star headed dwarf luckily kept a strait face till the mob had left and even confirmed some of the half-truths he had spun. It had taken hours to sort out Frodo, the lad was confused on which was truth and which was the half-truths.

The group had Dwalin reexplain what had happened, much to the warrior's displeasure, Nori and the others had apologized profusely. He understood of course, after all his life was at stake, he thinks, but he was still unhappy about the whole situation.

Frodo watched his uncle grumble and gnaw on the end of a now mutilated pipe. Shaking his head he gave a small shaky laugh, his uncle could be so stubborn sometimes. Not that Thorin was helping, the dwarf hadn't given his uncle any space to think, the dwarf had been crowding the elderly hobbit with affection.

It wasn't that Frodo doubted Thorin's intent, the dwarf had proven that with the “look”. Frodo had only seen the “look” in his parents eyes from what he could remember, his parents had looked at each other with the same “look” that Thorin gave his uncle. He could only pin the “look” with one emotion, love. It wasn't just any kind of love, it was a love that survived death, in this case it was proven.

That and the dwarf had stormed into the kitchen when Bilbo had accidental cut himself while making lunch for the large group. The two hobbits stared in wonder, and a tad bit of fear, as the child armed to the teeth came snarling in shouting battle cries because Bilbo yelped in pain. Frodo had seen the spine tingling fear that had been present in the dwarf's eyes. Thorin love Bilbo more than anything else in this world, but the dwarf wouldn't let him have thinking space.

That didn't mean that his uncle wasn't being a stubborn fool.

Sending Thorin a particular cheeky grin, Frodo felt it was time to address a certain subject. Getting up to brush of the back of his trousers Frodo gave a false sigh, “Uncle, I'm feeling quite famished, I think I'll go head down to the market and pick up some pies, maybe give Mr. Retierier my sincere apologizes.”

“Alright, lad, don't get into too much trouble now, remember to use your manners.” Bilbo replied to his nephew not taking his eyes off of the road and purposely ignored the angry curse of Khuzdul. He was fine as long as Dudley didn't try to come and visit him, he didn't know what made Thorin snap, but he didn't want it to happen again. The hairs on his neck were standing on end, but that was just because of the cold. Defiantly not from a dwarf's constant gaze. 

Glancing down the road where Frodo had disappeared faster than usual, he gave a small huff. His nephew hadn't done anything but tease him about the current situation. Which wasn't funny at all, he had been lied to by some of his closest friends and family members. This whole situation was just so wrong, why didn't anyone tell him? He had exchanged letters with the dwarves for years, but no body bothered to mention that his husband was alive and well, trapped in the body of a child.

Thorin didn't help at all, the dwarf was now attention starved and never left his side for long. The dwarves were hiding something from him, he knew it. He knew that they had something planed for him in Erebor, what it was he had no idea. Thorin knew, the former king pushed hard for Bilbo to just get up and come back to the Lonely Mountain.

He sighed and yet again stuff new pipe weed into his pipe, he would have to pick up some more soon. Scooting over to put more space between him and the dwarf who now was trying to meld into his side instead of the window. It was pointless to even try, but he still did tried, he was never a quitter.

Maybe that was his problem, he didn't know when to give up. Maybe he was at fault for his own bad mood. He knew he wasn't wholly responsible for his bad mood, Thorin had given him no space to process the new information and think of how their lives would continue on. Bilbo couldn't help but sigh, maybe that was part of his problem he wanted them to continue on together.

“That's not your problem, Mr. Baggins, your problem is your doubts of continuing on together.”

Bilbo jumped at the loud scratchy voice that echoed loudly with authority. Looking up nervously and removing his death grip on Thorin's arm, he spotted two very unusual hobbits from Bree.

Just outside of his gate stood two female hobbits, one with her hair golden with wild, well kept curls and a distracting blind eye leaned against the gate. Her pose was nonchalant and her basket full of goodies. Now, many would think that this was the incredibly strange gipsy hobbit who once wondered Middle Earth and only looked for profit, but no this was Miss Cherry Brandybuck. Her pleasant voice ringing out into the silence as she rolled her eyes at her wife's “all knowing powers”, “Good day, Mr. Bilbo.”

The other hobbit lass, her eyes wide with excitement and her manageable, dark brown curls pulled back in a tame ponytail, only smiled at Bilbo with a knowing look. Hannal, who was once a wondering gipsy with no last name, had stopped in Bree to only make a few “payments” when she had walked into a little Brandybuck. She had knocked the hobbit lass clean over and was about to apologize and make off with the little thing's coin when she looked upon the most blessed creature in all of Middle Earth. Cherry had no where to hide after she had seen the little lass, she had seen their soul strings intertwine and Cherry was her's. Her scratchy voice made its way back into Bilbo's ear, “You see, Mr. Baggins, you have the right idea, but the wrong way!”

Thorin grimaced at the two hobbits in front of him, who were these two? One looked like a warrior, the other like a mad cow. Shifting himself so that he was between the two hobbit lasses and his Bilbo, he gave the two a grunted greeting. He would feel a lot better if the mad-cow-one wasn't trying to jump the fence.

“Miss Hannal, please stop that.” Bilbo spoke with thinned lips, he really did love these two, it was just that Hannal was a little disturbing at times. Cherry, who had been born with a blind eye had been the talk of the Shire till she was old enough to walk, then people only talked about her eye behind her back. She had become fast friends with him when he was younger, but the two had drifted apart after his parents' death, only to be invited to her wedding three years ago. “Always a pleasure Miss Cherry.”

Hannal rolled her eyes, men. “Then let us in! I came all the way from my lovely little apartment and stopped to get you a nice tea time goodies when I could be at home enjoying a lovely private meal complete with my wife's lovely muffin-”

“Hannal!”

“Sorry dear, you know how much I love your-” Hannal shut her very dirty mouth at the fierce look her wife was giving her, “Well, I'm here to help you solve your problems about your future with your reborn husband.”

Bilbo and Cherry exchanged looks, both their faces so red they might be a new species of tomatoes. A silent apology was exchanged between them. Clearing her throat Cherry spoke with a shaky voice, “Sorry about that,” She gestured awkwardly to the air around the four of them, “We did come here to help, you know my wife is never wrong.”

“Even if you want me to be, my lovely little golden cherry.”

Bilbo tried to hide his laughter by coughing into his collar, Cherry had tried to shake off Hannal's affection for nearly two years before giving into the gipsy's demands to court her. Even when people had tried to run off Hannal, the gipsy would just come back hissing like a drowned cat, and put a curse on the ones who separated her from her “lovely little golden cherry, that blushes so pretty”. Hannal's curses or predictions weren't to be taken lightly.

“I know what you're questioning, Mr. Baggins, and because I owe you a favor and my little Cherry wants to help you, so here we are!” Hannal said lightly as she moved past Bilbo to shift through his bag of pipe weed, the gate was open, that meant she was free to do as she pleases. “Your worries about the threat on your life isn't as frivolous as you thought. You need to get some more pipe weed soon, you're almost out.”

Sending the dwarf, who was growling at her menacingly, an innocent flutter of her eye lashes she continued on. “Many dwarves will want your life and power, and aren't afraid to fight dirty for it. Don't try to argue with me, Mr. Baggins, you have much power over Erebor. You are a hero among the dwarves, many will pledge their allegiance to you and fight in your name. Many, will also see your union with a child as a chance to take what is yours, but there is a way for you to live a full life, a new life, with your husband.”

Thorin watched the woman with suspicion, how did she know this? Was she a spy, or was she someone who was very good at eavesdropping on things she shouldn't know. He growled at her as she eased her way onto the bench, this was Bilbo's bench, like she owned it. “How do you know this Halfling?”

Hannal only grinned as Bilbo and Cherry gave out an audible groan of distress, “I have never eavesdropped as you were thinking, Thorin; former King Under the mountain slayer of Azog the defiler. I have never listened in on conversations of fallen prince-lings and old gold hungry kings who died trying to find a new home for exiled dwarves, nor have ever heard of the words one dieing brother spoke to his brother in his final moments on earth among the decaying bodies of orcs and fellow dwa-”

“Enough.” Thorin stood up fast trying to tower over the witch who sat so casually near him. He didn't care if his volume got the Gamgees' attention, he was too busy trying not to shake in the arms of his hobbit. He just buried his nose into the sleeve of his Bilbo's shirt, willing down the vial in his throat. He had buried those memories, they weren't to be discussed. He wasn't going to discuss the feeling of his brother's blood running between his finger.

“As I was saying,” Hanna continued on nonchalantly, ignoring her wife's piercing gaze, she was so not sleeping in her bed tonight. “For your lives to continue on, Thorin will have to die, again.”

“Pardon me.”

Cherry flinched back from Bilbo's tone and volume, she moved to put a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. Shushing the panicked hobbit, she gave Bilbo a comforting smile. Speaking in an even tone she said the simple little words, “Trust me, it will be alright.”

Nodding Bilbo relaxed the muscles in his arms so he wasn't suffocating his husband. How would Thorin's death solve anything, he thought with a sob stuck in his throat. This wasn't right, but Hannal hasn't lead a friend stray before, or so she said.

“Yes, Thorin will die,” Pausing dramatically with a wicked smile, “Or so we will make the lot of rebellious dwarves think. Then as a mourning spouse, again, you, Mr. Baggins, will travel back to Mirkwood. Where you will have the perfect view of the Lonely Moutain, to mourn the death of your beloved, again.”

Purpusly ignoring the livid dwarf that was being reminded of his short comings, she continued on. “The elven King Thranduil will welcome you both with open arms, and start a ceremony of old. At the first full moon the both of you will drain a smallish amount of blood into a specific elixir, not prepared since man and elves fist joined. As the words are spoken by the elven king and your wounds pressed together in a lover's embrace, a spell will bind your life spans together for the rest of both your lives.”

Bilbo's eyes widened, he knew of what Hannal spoke of, he had read about an ancient spell passed down to the elves by their maker. For Eru pitied his children and blessed them with a way to keep the two together, but at a price. If one was to die, then the other would fallow, their souls forever intertwined.

“After drinking the elixir, your souls will be one, and Mr. Baggins will age much, much, much slower. And you both will continue on with your lives how ever you wish to.” Hannal ended with a flourished bow. She wouldn't tell Mr. Bilbo Baggins the rest of his future, no, her friend didn't need to know about the heartache he would cause before it was time. He would cause heartache and challenges for his beloved nephew, but it was for the best because there was no other on Middle Earth who could carry the One Ring to its final resting place. She knew the two would fallow her instructions to the letter, the two would then be inseparable, and Thorin would be Bilbo's rock in the time to come. Thorin will be the ancor when Bilbo will doubt his decisions and the two will be forced to watch as Frodo goes on a quest, like his uncle, and come back a different hobbit. The three would ride the boats to the West with the elves together, Thorin holding his husband's hand as Frodo whispered reassuring words to a distraught Bilbo.

“Thank you,” Bilbo whispered to his odd friend, he wanted to laugh and spin Thorin around in gay laughter, for his fears had been laid to rest. He gave a shaky laugh as he legs gave out due to not sleeping for the past week. Waving Cherry's concern off with a large smile and a giddy laugh, he agreed with his body, he should get some rest. He would need it after all, it was a long trip across Middle Earth to Mirkwood.

Thorin curled protectively around his little hobbit. Things would get better now, giving the two lasses a thankful nod of his head as the two let themselves out. Watching the mad-cow-one jumping the fence with a hardy laugh, only to be scolded by her wife, he gave a small snort as he let his eyes slowly droop closed. Kissing the top of his husband's head, he gave a lazy smile as he thought about their future together. It would take a lot of work, but no happy ending was ever won easily.

Bifur waddled out of the familiar green door, a few moments latter, to call two fools in for lunch when he discovered the two sleeping lazily out on the front lawn. Snorting he wondered back inside to grab the two a quilt. He knew Bilbo hadn't slept in days, the both of them had huddled together and watched the stars vanish and the sun take the many lights' place. 

His little brother could use the sleep. And he knew for the two to be cuddled up together that their little burglar's problems were over. After all if things didn't work out, Thorin would just have to try being reborn again if worst came to worst. Bifur would personaly make sure of that. His little brother deserved a happy ending, that much he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end~!  
> Sorry this took so long, you lovely people are so awesome to put up with my laziness.  
> Yet again, all errors are my own.

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are my own, will update soon!  
> Thank you for reading!  
> My butt needs a therapist, I have a dwarf problem...  
> Thank the lovely Caylren for this piece!  
> caylren.tumblr.com or caylren.deviantart.com  
> Comic link-> http://caylren.tumblr.com/post/42171149768/the-hobbit-seeing-you-again-next-what-if  
> this story was only inspired by the first page, I at the time didn't know she/he was making more. FWI, if caylren doesn't approve of the story then this story is going down. I refuse to have any kind of ripping off of another artiest's work.


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